Status: Done.
After the Passion
1/1
I hear Neil’s car come to a smooth stop on the pavement below. He rings the doorbell, and I hear Mom welcoming him in.
I tiptoe downstairs. I don’t know why I’m sneaking around like this. I don’t want Neil to see me before I’m ready, I tell myself, but I know it’s not so. I hear him talking with Mom and Dad, like they’re his own parents. A charming gentleman, I can almost hear Mom in my mind.
I go back upstairs. I apply another fresh coat of lipstick, smacking my lips together. I stare into the mirror, discontented with what I see. I see brown hair falling to my shoulders, blue eyes ringed with makeup. There’s something missing, I know it. I open the locket Mark had given me, hidden below the neckline of my dress. I click it open, and Mark’s intense eyes stare into mine. I close it quickly enough, but I don’t take it off. It seems faithless, carrying a picture of my ex around while on a date with my boyfriend, but…
I shake my thoughts off. I want to enjoy this night, I tell myself, though I most probably won’t.
I go down, heels clicking a little on the wooden stairs. All three of them look at me descending the stairs. I gaze back in silence at them as they coo over me like a doll in a glass case. I smile artificially, letting Neil take me away to his car. He opens the car door for me, and I flash my fake smile in his direction.
We drive off. He makes conversation, but it falls horribly flat. I don’t like football, and he doesn’t know me enough to know that I love sketching. He keeps glancing at me sideways.
We finally disembark at our destination, the movies. He, being the perfect gentleman of course, leads me down from the car. My arm is on his, yet I don’t feel the thrill I do whenever Mark touches me, however slight it may be.
Neil glances down at me, perfect mouth that all my friends would love to kiss forming words. What would you like to watch? I try to wake from my reverie. Broken Hearts, Football Fury, Gunning down Vegas… What the heck. I tell him to go pick something; anything would be fine with me. He picks Football Fury without hesitation. We go in.
As the movie plays, I think about Mark. His less-than-perfect features that had intensity in them unlike Neil’s pretty-boy blandness. The night we went to a party at my friends and ended up walking in the rain. Not that it mattered, though. We kissed all the way to my house. Mark had been in all his fierce intensity that night.
Yet here I am, cursing him for making me think of him while I could be enjoying myself.
I try to focus on the movie. The guy in the movie had Mark’s haircut. God, why do little things like this remind me of him? Yet images of our fights filter into my mind. Shouting and screaming bouts.
Yet I had felt strangely happy.
Yet I had broken up with him.
So here I am, watching a corny movie about football players with a guy who sucks up to my parents. How did I even end up going with him? Was it his face?
The credits are barely rolling. I stand up, not even waiting for Neil. He follows me, though. What’s the matter? He asks me. I want to scream. I want Mark, not you! But Mark and I have broken up. No more. We were “a mismatched pair of shoes” as my mom had told me, unsympathetic about our break-up.
It’s raining outside. I suddenly want to be free of Neil’s constant questions, his noisy inquisitiveness—as if he doesn’t know I don’t like him.
I wish one of my friends who’re jealous of me could just switch place with me.
We’re in front of Neil’s car. I hadn’t even noticed that I was walking quickly, that Neil was struggling to keep up. The rain’s pouring down in thick sheets now, but I don’t care. I walk past Neil’s car. He shouts after me. We’re riding together, Allie! I shake my head, not even turning.
The raindrops soak into me, mingling with my tears. I had loved Mark, I realize it now. I only broke up with him because he “wasn’t good enough for me”.
And what people consider good enough for me is a fake block of wood for whom I have no feelings for.
I feel numb. I hear Neil revving his car up, zooming past me. Maybe he’s angry. I don’t care.
I hate you, Mark! I scream silently. But I know I loved him, too.
But nothing can bring him back, now.
Nothing.
I tiptoe downstairs. I don’t know why I’m sneaking around like this. I don’t want Neil to see me before I’m ready, I tell myself, but I know it’s not so. I hear him talking with Mom and Dad, like they’re his own parents. A charming gentleman, I can almost hear Mom in my mind.
I go back upstairs. I apply another fresh coat of lipstick, smacking my lips together. I stare into the mirror, discontented with what I see. I see brown hair falling to my shoulders, blue eyes ringed with makeup. There’s something missing, I know it. I open the locket Mark had given me, hidden below the neckline of my dress. I click it open, and Mark’s intense eyes stare into mine. I close it quickly enough, but I don’t take it off. It seems faithless, carrying a picture of my ex around while on a date with my boyfriend, but…
I shake my thoughts off. I want to enjoy this night, I tell myself, though I most probably won’t.
I go down, heels clicking a little on the wooden stairs. All three of them look at me descending the stairs. I gaze back in silence at them as they coo over me like a doll in a glass case. I smile artificially, letting Neil take me away to his car. He opens the car door for me, and I flash my fake smile in his direction.
We drive off. He makes conversation, but it falls horribly flat. I don’t like football, and he doesn’t know me enough to know that I love sketching. He keeps glancing at me sideways.
We finally disembark at our destination, the movies. He, being the perfect gentleman of course, leads me down from the car. My arm is on his, yet I don’t feel the thrill I do whenever Mark touches me, however slight it may be.
Neil glances down at me, perfect mouth that all my friends would love to kiss forming words. What would you like to watch? I try to wake from my reverie. Broken Hearts, Football Fury, Gunning down Vegas… What the heck. I tell him to go pick something; anything would be fine with me. He picks Football Fury without hesitation. We go in.
As the movie plays, I think about Mark. His less-than-perfect features that had intensity in them unlike Neil’s pretty-boy blandness. The night we went to a party at my friends and ended up walking in the rain. Not that it mattered, though. We kissed all the way to my house. Mark had been in all his fierce intensity that night.
Yet here I am, cursing him for making me think of him while I could be enjoying myself.
I try to focus on the movie. The guy in the movie had Mark’s haircut. God, why do little things like this remind me of him? Yet images of our fights filter into my mind. Shouting and screaming bouts.
Yet I had felt strangely happy.
Yet I had broken up with him.
So here I am, watching a corny movie about football players with a guy who sucks up to my parents. How did I even end up going with him? Was it his face?
The credits are barely rolling. I stand up, not even waiting for Neil. He follows me, though. What’s the matter? He asks me. I want to scream. I want Mark, not you! But Mark and I have broken up. No more. We were “a mismatched pair of shoes” as my mom had told me, unsympathetic about our break-up.
It’s raining outside. I suddenly want to be free of Neil’s constant questions, his noisy inquisitiveness—as if he doesn’t know I don’t like him.
I wish one of my friends who’re jealous of me could just switch place with me.
We’re in front of Neil’s car. I hadn’t even noticed that I was walking quickly, that Neil was struggling to keep up. The rain’s pouring down in thick sheets now, but I don’t care. I walk past Neil’s car. He shouts after me. We’re riding together, Allie! I shake my head, not even turning.
The raindrops soak into me, mingling with my tears. I had loved Mark, I realize it now. I only broke up with him because he “wasn’t good enough for me”.
And what people consider good enough for me is a fake block of wood for whom I have no feelings for.
I feel numb. I hear Neil revving his car up, zooming past me. Maybe he’s angry. I don’t care.
I hate you, Mark! I scream silently. But I know I loved him, too.
But nothing can bring him back, now.
Nothing.